Saturday, September 5, 2009

Roadies...can we really call them that?

Today I showed up for yet another "mountain bike" race in Anchorage (Up and Over Challenge, Campbell Air Strip to Indian), only to find that almost all of the other participants were what we refer to as "roadies", bikers who compete in the expert class road bike races, but come out for a lot of the mountain bike races as well. You can always tell a roadie by their expensive carbon mountain bikes (which wouldn't last a week under my guidance), gaudy spandex uniforms, and anemic physiques...except for the tree-trunk legs of course. Further proof is provided once the race starts and the first techinical trail feature is encountered. A "roadie" will appear surprised by this sudden obstacle and usually fall right over, thus causing everyone behind them to dismount, gracefully or not so much.

Back to the race. I got out of the car at the trailhead this morning, took a look around and knew what the score was. I looked over at Julie and yelled "Last place! High Five!!" It turns out there were a few other mountain bikers in disguise so I finished like 11 out of 15 or something with a very respectable time of 2:27. I never did see those roadies again after the first 1.35 minutes of the race but whatever. It was a beautiful day and I had a (mostly) nice ride. The climb from Bivouac to Glen Alps (2000 ft) was a bit rough but after that it was pretty sweet.

The BikeMonkee shows some skin on Powerline Pass trail.

As for the title of the post, my question is this, how many more times do I have to have my ass handed to me in these races before accepting the fact that these "roadies" are in fact just really freakin' good bikers, mountain bike, road bike, it doesn't matter? Still, I'd love to see how they fare on a course that is even remotely technical. Unfortunately, there really aren't any technical trails in Anchorage, not like in UT or CO. Speaking of UT and CO, one more month before the trip to Moab and Fruita. Can't wait!

4 comments:

What sets roadies apart, in my opinion, is their annoyingly serious approach to racing. Too many show up, hammer the ride and disappear. I'd rather hang out with a back-of-the-pack mountain biker any day. That's the rider who knows a good joke, likes a cold beer and doesn't live by the heart-rate monitor.